


Haircut

by ioverheardthis



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, set after the drama cd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6951199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioverheardthis/pseuds/ioverheardthis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to cut Koujaku's hair in the style he wants, Aoba first needs Koujaku to be comfortable in his own skin.</p>
<p>"I want you to be okay with it. <i>100 percent okay</i> with it! I want you to be comfortable in your own skin first. And if that doesn't happen, then I won't do it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haircut

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write a 40 page fic on Google Docs about a haircut? Yeah.

“Don't put a shirt on.”

It’s the morning on a weekend. Koujaku had just gotten out of bed after I made him laze around with me for awhile and he immediately started toward the chest of drawers. It was pretty hot last night, so he had slept shirtless, and I know he has to be hot this morning.

Koujaku turns to give me a questioning look, his hand still on the drawer’s handle. A sneaky grin appears on his face before he can ask a question.

I roll my eyes from my place on the bed. “Just… you don't need to cover up. It's just me here.”

For awhile now, I've been looking for ways I can help Koujaku become comfortable in his own skin. I read a step-by-step, unaccredited but informative article about it online, and this is one of the steps: walk around your house naked. I don't really know if that'll help, but I want him to know he can bare his tattoos in his own house. I know him being comfortable in his own skin would help a lot, but I also have sort of a selfish reason for it: I want to cut his hair, and I don’t want to just trim the style that’s already there; I want to cut his bangs. His bangs are there to hide a tattoo, and once he gets comfortable showing them, maybe he’ll let me cut his hair how I want. His hair is pushed back this morning from his sleep, so I know he’s okay with letting me see the tattoo by his eye. However, it’s still pretty rare that I get to see the tattoo, and it’s almost always because of me that his hair is pushed back in the first place. In the shower and in bed after sleep or during sex are really the only times he doesn’t fix his hair when I push it back.

His face falls and his eyes lose a bit of their sparkle. “If I'm going to make breakfast, I don't want grease burns,” he says as an excuse. He knows exactly what I'm getting at.

“Then wear an apron,” I say nonchalantly, but I know the apron is backless.

I see the knot in his throat work as he swallows and he casts his eyes down. His hand is still on the drawer handle.

“Jack~” I call softly as I swing my legs over the side of our bed. “I'm not going to make you. I'm just saying you don't need to cover up in your own home… or around me.”

“I’m not covering up,” he defends. I raise my eyebrows at him and a sheepish grin spreads across his face. “Alright, alright. You’re right.”

He takes a couple steps towards me and cups my face before kissing me.

“You're right,” he repeats, rubbing his thumbs over my cheeks, an affectionate look on his face. “I'm just so used to it...”

I hum in acknowledgement, running my fingers through his hair and tucking his bangs behind his ear. “And don't fix your hair,” I add, smiling.

Just as I say that, his bangs fall back in their place when he dips his head with a laugh. It’s difficult to keep his bangs back when his hair is so silky. “How ‘bout I just not put pants on either?”

“You've got these,” I say, snapping the elastic band of his boxers, grinning at his indignant noise.

“Aoba!”

Feeling playful, I continue my teasing because he's just so fun to tease. I run my hands down and around, up the curve of his ass to the dip in his back. “If it were up to me, I'd never make you put on a shirt, but that might cause riots.” I wave my arm to illustrate my point, “or bodies of your fans would just be _strewn_ across the street.”

Instead of laughing with me, his face falls and I go cold. That far-away look in his eyes is all too familiar.

Oh no...

“Because, you know... you wouldn't be wearing a shirt… and… you're gorgeous…” I finish lamely.

His fingers linger in my hair for a minute before he rests his hands on my shoulders. “Oh,” he huffs, hitching a fake smile on his face to accompany his breathy snort of fake amusement.

“Koujaku, I didn't mean it like that,” I say quietly but firmly. The image I painted in his head must've taken a turn for the worst where his tattoos were involved.

“I know,” he says, smile still fake as he kisses me again.

My face burning, I hang my head in defeat, resting it against Koujaku’s chest. “Shit. I'm so sorry.” It looks like I lost the race to body positivity today. I always fuck it up some way or another.

He cradles my head to his chest and I honestly want to pull away: even when I upset him, he's comforting me.

“It's okay, Aoba,” he croons. “You didn't mean anything. It's fine.”

I do pull away eventually, but Koujaku’s hands stay in my hair until he sits down next to me. He takes my hand instead, searching my eyes which I know are shining with tears.

“I know what you're trying to do,” he says, deep voice rich with affection, “and I love you so much for it.” He squeezes my hand and the genuine grin is back. “And you're right: I think it's time to try to move on; to stop hiding. But… it's gonna take some time.”

My hearts melts each time he talks about overcoming his past; I'm so proud of him. I reach up to brush his bangs back once more so I can trace the tattoo by his eye.

“Well… I still wanna cut your hair,” I admit slowly, but speed up to cut Koujaku off when he opens his mouth. “But I don't want to do it now! I want you to be okay with it. _100 percent_ okay with it! I want you to be comfortable in your own skin first. And if that doesn't happen, then I won't do it.” I shrug, looking down at our linked fingers. “I just kinda hoped that… maybe walking around the house would be a good start.”

He pulls me to his bare chest and we go quiet for a while, but the atmosphere has cleared up so it isn't awkward. That is, until:

“You really think I'm gorgeous?” Koujaku finally says, and I can tell through his voice how huge his smile has grown.

I splutter. Oh, right. That was my lame attempt to make everything better when I knew I had upset him. I want him to feel good about his body, so I answer truthfully. “Yeah,” I mutter, hating how pouty and embarrassed my voice is. Even if I want him to feel good about himself, he's positively smug and I want to push him away.

“I do want you to be comfortable in your own skin,” I say earnestly. I'm really embarrassed by myself. “I do want to cut your hair, but I'm not trying to be _that_ selfish.”

“You're not being selfish at all, Aoba,” Koujaku says firmly. He kisses the top of my head. “I agreed to it, didn't I? I want you to do it too.”

* * *

That was two months ago, and it's been three months since we returned from our trip to the mainland. Since our talk about a haircut, and with encouragements from me, Koujaku’s body image is improving rapidly. So much so that I even got suspicious that he’s being insincere just to impress me. However, he assured me he would never deceive me, and I believe him. I think most of it is that he's actually excited that I'm interested in cutting hair.

Koujaku is comfortable enough to walk around the house and he even gets the mail shirtless sometimes. Well, the mailbox is just a few steps out our front door and it’s only happened a few times but it still happened. I knew it was in him; he bore his tattoos to me and his team in Oval Tower, and in the afterwards while he was in the hospital he didn’t mind letting the nurses see his the tattoos all over his body.

On this humid day, he's dressed pretty western in a short-sleeved shirt, and he plans to go to work like this. I'm currently standing in front of him, rubbing his tattooed arm.

“You don't owe anyone any explanations,” I reassure. I've already given him a version of this encouraging speech multiple times. “You're a Ribster; Ribsters have tattoos. The only thing is, people have never seen them before, so there's gonna be questions. That's the only reason they'll ask about them. Okay?”

He takes a deep breath, taking my hand off his arm and enveloping it in his own big, warm one. “I know.”

I grin fondly at my next words. “Especially Mizuki. Not because he's prying, but because he's interested. But you don't have to show him or talk about them. Okay?”

“I'd planned to tell him or anyone who asks that I got them… before my mother died. It's the truth…” He sighs, “and I think people will understand that much.”

There's a dark look on his face, so I smile brightly at him. “Good answer.”  I step forward and hug him. “Nobody will pry, Koujaku. I promise. And if they do, walk away. You don't owe them anything.” I rest my chin on his shoulder and relax into our hug. “You'll be fine. And if you're not, come home… or, how ‘bout take a kimono with you?”

He chuckles at that. “I'll be okay, Aoba. Thank you…” he squeezes me for emphasis, “...so much.”

We leave, and walk hand-in-hand down the sidewalk. It’s still a little too PDA for me, but I used to hold Koujaku’s hand all the time, so the warm nostalgic feeling I got from his skin quickly canceled that out.

“Where are you setting up shop today?” I ask watching the people stroll by across the street and they don't even notice us. It's fine.

“Ah… The usual place,” he answers, squinting in the sunlight. “Can't believe I haven't been stopped by the cops yet,” he adds as a joke, poking me.

“Heh… you? Stopped by the cops?” I roll my eyes dramatically and he laughs. “Meanwhile, I'll probably get in trouble for loitering… around an _unaffiliated_ shop!”

He plucks a stand of my hair with his free hand. “Must be the blue hair!”

I bat him away, grumbling. “Shut up!”

For the past month, we've been talking about how I want to cut his hair. He knows the style I want to cut, and he seems fine with it. He wanted me to keep the style a surprise, but I can't surprise him by cutting his bangs - that's just too much of a shock. But, even still, he's okay with me cutting his hair.

He gives me one-on-one lessons at home, and I go to work with him occasionally. On weekends, I can watch him work all day if I want, and on weekdays, I go and stay for about an hour until my shift at Heibon starts. He was surprised that I actually agreed to get up and watch him before my own work, but this is something that I want to do.

His fans react exactly how I expect each time: they complain loudly about how “close” I stand to Koujaku, threaten me about cutting in line, and proclaim they aren’t here to have their hair cut by me. Apparently, they still haven’t warmed up to me. However, Koujaku has some genuinely nice clients who hold pleasant conversations with both of us while they get their hair cut and think it's wonderful that I'm observing. I’ve never really noticed them before I started going to work with him, because it’s usually his “fans” that are causing the ruckus, not the actual clients. Koujaku also has a lot of male clients that I never noticed before either. I knew there had to be men in the district that wanted their hair cut by Koujaku, but I always just thought they were either too jealous, intimidated, or just didn’t want to be associated with his fans.

Since we got together, Koujaku started acting differently with his clients, but after our visit to the mainland, Koujaku’s demeanor around his clients has changed drastically. He’s completely professional with them. He doesn’t accept any invitations or gifts, compliments don’t exceed the hairstyle, there’s absolutely no flirting on his part, and he’s a lot quicker to put his foot down. I guess they’ve slowly started to accept that’s how Koujaku’s is now, because I don’t see any of his fans trying to put up a fight like what was happening a few months ago before tamaokuri.

I don’t really think of myself as a jealous person, but I actually feel really relieved. Not only can I walk by where he’s chosen to set up shop without being scared of his fans, but now I know first hand that he keeps his relationships with his fans strictly professional. I don’t want to say that I didn’t trust him, it’s just that his flirting comes naturally; it’s just who he is. He would never cheat on me or anything, it’s just I thought he couldn’t help leading his fans on by flirting naturally like he was single. I’m actually glad I was wrong. A teeny part of me hopes that his fans know I’m the reason for this change in their precious Koujaku-san, but a much bigger part hopes they never find out lest they burn me alive.

“Aoba, I was just joking.” Koujaku’s deep, concerned voice draws me out of my thoughts. “You know I love your hair.”

At that moment, Ren pokes his head out of my bag and I know he’s about to inform me about my thought processes or something, so I scratch behind his ears to quiet him. “I’m not mad! I’m just thinking about your work and fans,” I say hastily.

Koujaku’s concerned frown didn’t disappear. “Do they still bother you?”

“Uhhh….” I hesitate. Yes, they do. They’ve never bothered Koujaku, of course - the ham. But yeah, they do bother me. It’s difficult to work with Koujaku when I can't comfortably interact with him. “Yeah,” I finally admit.

Koujaku squeezes my hand. “I'm sorry.” He sounds so sincere it's actually endearing.

“Not like it's your fault,” I dismiss with a wave of my free hand.

“What can I do to help?”

“Jack, it's fine. I'm not being serious.” I shrug. “That's just how your fans act. Don't disrupt them.”

Koujaku laughs loudly.

* * *

Once we arrive at the location, Koujaku starts to unpack his stuff. He takes the chair out of his bag and unfolds it. Next, he pulls out his belt and attaches it before placing tools and hair products inside it from his bag. By this time, people have started to take notice, and I can see them swarming around the area from my peripheral vision, but I don't let it bother me yet. I pretend to help as much as I can when the people start accumulating, trying to let them know I'm with Koujaku again today.

“Good morning, Koujaku!” comes a kind voice from behind: it's the first client. The girl, who's waving cheerily at us, approaches and her smile gets brighter when she sees me. “Oh! Good morning, Aoba! Still taking lessons?”

I can't help but smile just as bright back at her. I'm relieved that the first client is this girl. She'll put me in a good mood. “Good morning!” I say politely. “Yeah. I need a couple more lessons before I'm deemed worthy by the master,” I joke, jabbing my thumb in Koujaku’s direction.

“Good morning, Yori,” Koujaku says, ignoring me. He bows a little and holds his hand out towards the chair.

I notice that Yori glances at Koujaku’s tattoos, but she doesn't say anything as she sits down excitedly. I really do like this girl; she's sweet and always has good things to talk about.

Koujaku’s hands instantly go to her shoulder-length black hair. “What are you thinking today?” Koujaku asks, completely professional at this point.

“I think I would like a trim today,” she answers politely. Usually she comes over just to get a nice style before work, but today she wants it cut. “And I'm glad Aoba is here,” she adds, turning in her chair. “Maybe you could practice?”

I know that Yori is sometimes in line and she must hear most of the girls refuse to let me touch their hair even when Koujaku insists. Yori knows I want to cut Koujaku’s hair because we talk regularly about it. She probably doesn't even want a trim, she just wants to help out.

This girl… she really is nice.

“Yeah, okay. If you're sure,” I say, trying to sound confident but the only hair I've cut is my own.

“He's pretty inexperienced, Yori,” Koujaku warns jokingly.

“Hey!” I shout defensively. I maybe haven't had hands-on practice, but I've seen him cut a lot of hair.

Yori waves her hand. “It's fine! It's just a trim. And you're here.”

Koujaku throws me an unreadable look before wrapping the clear plastic cape around Yori’s neck. Next, he takes hold of the spray bottle attached to his belt. As he's sprizing Yori’s hair, a proper line has started to form, complete with calls to Koujaku from amongst the chatter. He raises a hand in the direction of the calls and excited voices take the place of the shouting. I roll my eyes. This is as close to dating a celebrity as I'll ever get… and ever _want_ to get. Thankfully, the crowd isn’t very hectic yet given the early morning.

When Yori’s hair is damp enough to cut, Koujaku hands me a pair of scissors.

Oh. Wow. I'm really doing this. I didn’t prepare myself at all because I was too focused on the crowd.

I can hear the ‘hey’s and ‘what's he doing?’s from the crowd as I take the scissors in my surprising steady hand, but I ignore them once Koujaku starts to instruct me. I step up to the chair and take Yori’s hair in my free hand. I run my fingers down to the ends like Koujaku tells me, stop when there's an inch left, hold the scissors close to my fingers, and snip off the hair that's showing.

Koujaku seems a little conflicted. He sounds excited that I'm finally cutting someone's hair, but he also looks slightly disappointed in between the instruction. At first I thought I was doing something wrong, but I've seen Koujaku cut so much hair that I know I can't go wrong with just a trim. However, not too long later, the hint of disappointment I saw in Koujaku’s eyes is completely gone and replaced with the upmost pride. I feel a bout of confidence rush through me at that look and continue slowly snipping Yori’s hair. I get progressively better and Koujaku stops guiding my hands. A few moments later I could confidently snip a piece without looking for confirmation from him. I can finally understand what Koujaku means when he tries to explain what it feels like to cut someone's hair. Even though I used to cut my own hair, it's an entirely different feeling cutting someone else's hair. I can feel and watch every strand being severed through the metal of the scissors, and I relish in the harsh snipping sound. I actually kind of like this.

Yori’s hair is easy to work with: it's thin, silky and manageable. Koujaku would've had her trim done in a minute, but for me, it took ten. Not that Yori minded, though. She held a pleasant conversation with us about her work, and even kept up with Beni’s usual antics. I brush my hand through her hair over and over, checking the length and making sure everything is even just like Koujaku has instructed me many of times.

I can't believe it when Koujaku says that I'm done; I've actually cut someone's hair - and not just anyone, but one of _Koujaku’s client’s_.

“All done?” Yori asks, feeling the inch or so I've taken off her hair.

“Yep!” Koujaku sings. He smiles proudly at me, his eyes sparkling. “Aoba did a wonderful job.” He pulls out his handheld mirror for Yori and she examines her hair.

“Wonderful!” she echoes. I feel a bit flustered under their praise. “Thank you, Aoba!”

My hand reflexively goes for my own hair, but then I remember how short it is and I just kind of awkwardly caress my collarbone. “Yeah… that was fun!”

Koujaku gently turns Yori back around and instructs me to comb out her hair and add a type of product to it - to "finish the job" as he says.

I smile when I'm finished, proud of myself. It kind of feels surreal that after so long of watching Koujaku cut hair and constantly being told by his clients that I couldn’t touch their hair, I actually gave a client a trim. I kind of want to do it again. I can’t wait to cut Koujaku’s hair.

Koujaku dusts the clear cape off before unclasping it. Yori stands up and starts to rummage in her bag before looking troubled.

“I’m not sure… I should pay both of you, but...” she admits, blushing slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to worry,” Koujaku affirms hastily, “it goes to the same place.”

“Oh!” Yori says, then she smiles knowingly and it’s my turn to blush. I don’t get how Koujaku can be such a lady-killer and yet so unsmooth at the same time.

Yori thanks me once again and promises to be back before heading off to work. Koujaku sweeps the hair into the small dust bin he carries with him.

“She’s really nice,” I say.

“Very,” he agrees, grinning.

He steps up to me and puts an arm around my shoulders in a one-armed hug. I instantly tense up, horribly aware of the people watching.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says in my ear.

“Jack~!” I complain and wiggle out of his grasp. My blush is back. “I’m pretty sure bosses aren’t supposed to give their employees a hug after a job.”

He laughs. “Am I your boss?”

“Shut up! You know what I mean!” I hiss. If I were a cat, my hackles would be raised.

“Koujaku!” The beginnings of our dispute is interrupted by the girl next in line.

“Ah, yes!” Koujaku says kindly. “Please take a seat!”

* * *

I know Koujaku has many reasons why he likes it when I come to work with him, but making him take a lunch break is probably high up there. When I’m with him, I make him take me to lunch and we close up shop for about 30 minutes. He told me he usually takes his breaks while right in the middle of the crowd, sitting in the chair he brings with him, and I actually got kind of mad about that - more so because he’s so humble he gets on my nerves, but also because he said he doesn’t want to make the girls in line wait too long. I flat out refuse to let him sacrifice his entire day waiting hand and foot on the people who are there to use his services. If he were selling products and he only got a few opportunities during the day, I might understand, but his clients need to adjust to his schedule.

So he takes me to a small sandwich shop just a block away from where he usually sets up, and he sometimes comes here if the crowd isn’t too large. Since we’re outside all day long, I would rather stay in the restaurant, but I know Koujaku likes to eat outside and it is a nice day, so we take our trays of food out to the small patio at the front of the shop. It was a good choice after all: no one else is out here.

We sit down, spread out our food, and pick from each other’s plates while we talk.

Something has been bothering me since I cut Yori’s hair this morning, and I decide to voice it to him. “Koujaku?”

He looks up from his lunch and smiles at me. “Yeah?”

“When I was cutting Yori’s hair, I noticed you looked a little... disappointed,” I say slowly, recalling the look on his face for a split second while I was cutting the client’s hair. “What was that about?”

He looks stunned for a moment and then he frowns. “Oh... baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it towards you.” He reaches out and gently pats my hand that’s resting on the table. He smiles, a little ruefully as he leans back in his chair. “I was just thinking... I regretted not letting you practice on me like you wanted to. You’re such a natural; I was really impressed.”

“Oh…” I say. He did playfully refuse to let me practice on him when I suggested it, complete with bunching up his hair and hiding it from me under his hands. “Well, it was just a trim,” I dismiss before grinning. “Don't worry: you'll be my first real haircut.”

He smiles sweetly. “And I’m sorry for teasing you,” he adds. “I bet you thought I was disappointed with you because of that, huh?”

“No, Jack. I know you were just teasing!” I shrug. “That’s what we do; we tease each other.”

“Yeah, but I embarrassed you.”

“You did not embarrass me! It’s fine.”

Koujaku chuckles. “Alright. But I am sorry,” he insists.

I look him in the eyes, knowing he won’t give this up unless I’m completely serious. “And I forgive you. So stop apologizing.”

We resume our conversation about anything and everything as we finish our lunch.

“You know,” he says as we get up to leave. “I love it when you come to work with me, but you don’t have to spend your day off out here if you don't want to. You can go home whenever; it won’t hurt my feelings,” he adds with a dazzling smile.

I roll my eyes, pushing my chair in and picking up my tray. “I know that. It’s no big deal.” I really do like being with him all day, it’s just the crowds that get to me sometimes.

Once we’re out of the restaurant, Koujaku calls to me. “Hey, Aoba.”

I make a curious sound at his quiet voice and see that he's holding his arms out for me. I resist checking to see if the coast was clear and confidently step into his embrace.

It's a short hug, long enough for a squeeze, and he's smiling when he pulls back. “You really did do a good job this morning. I'm not just saying that,” he says. “I'm impressed, but I'm not surprised; I knew you could do it.”

“I used to cut my own hair, ya know?” I say after a sigh. A little trim really didn't warrant this much praise, but I’ll take it.

“Yeah, and I always told you that looked good too, didn't I? I meant it.”

I give an appreciative smile and go to take his hand but I stop and opt to run my fingers over his tattoos that are showing. “No one’s commented.” I honestly forgot about his tattoos altogether.

He sighs and grins. “Guess you were right.”

I take his hand and lean up against him for a gentle shove as we head back to reopen shop. “When am I not?”

I love whenever he throws his head back in a laugh, and even more so when I’m the one who made him laugh.

“And when you  _are_ wrong, it’s my fault!”

“Nuh uh! That’s not true!”

* * *

“You think you’re ready to cut my hair?”

“You make it sound like _I’m_ the one who made _you_ wait to cut your hair.”

We came home that evening earlier than Koujaku normally would and I know it’s because I started to get grouchy. I’m still a little kid sometimes, but Koujaku had worked long enough and I was starting to get tired. It still amazes me that he can simultaneously leave all those people in line and manage not to hurt anyone’s feelings. He’s so charismatic and he charms anyone who sits in the salon chair. When he gets his own salon, I’m gonna have to make sure he’s running it properly and sticking to his schedule.

We’re about to sit down for dinner, and I peer over my shoulder from my place at the counter to see Koujaku messing with his bangs.

I grimace, realizing I was kind of being insensitive. “Whenever you’re ready, babe. I’m in no rush.” I pass Koujaku our plates so he can finish setting the table. “Besides, I just gave a trim today.” No other clients had let me get near their hair, and I was sorely missing Koujaku’s nice-clients that stop by from time-to-time. This must’ve been a day when they didn’t work or something; I got grouchy by the end of the day because of that.

I look over his tattooed arm as we sit down. “Plus, don’t push yourself. You just went out with a few tattoos showing, and those can be easily covered up.” It’ll take awhile for his bangs to grow back if he doesn't like it when I cut them, so it isn’t like he can just hide the tattoos by his eye when he needs to. I get an idea. “I guess you could cover the ones by your eye with makeup.”

Koujaku rolls his eyes as he takes his chopsticks.

“Hey! I’m serious.” I’m just trying to help.

He raises an eyebrow.

“What do you think models do when they have tattoos the client’s don’t like?” I fire back.

He grins at that. “Am I a model?”

I look up to the ceiling and sigh - he’s impossible. “Jeez. Never mind! Just eat your food.”

I sneak glances at him while we eat; watching his hands and scanning his face. He is absolutely beautiful - it's almost unfair. I've always thought he was beautiful, and now that's he's asked me if I thought him a model, I'm actually starting to think he could be - or he _should_ be. This gorgeous man would sell anything he wore. Everyone would want to look like him.

 

We head to the couch after dinner, and then eventually migrate to the shower.

The haircut comes up again when we're laying in bed together. Koujaku is on his back and I'm laying sprawled across him, and we're almost asleep, but I want to question him about his decision. I don’t want him to rush into this because he thinks I’m tired of waiting.

“Do you really want your hair cut?” I start, pushing myself up on an elbow and toying with the ends of his long hair that hang down past his collarbone.

“I do,” he affirms. “I haven’t had short hair since I was a kid. I’m actually looking forward to it.”

I frown in thought, impressed with that answer but not totally convinced. “Maybe… you should sleep on it.” I don’t want to cause Koujaku any more distress. I want him to realize how serious this could be. I don’t want him to do this for me.

“I don’t want to think about it anymore, Aoba,” he says firmly. “I want you to cut my hair.”

I move my fingers up to his face and trace the tattoos around his eye. “Why don’t you try wearing your bangs back tomorrow before you 100 percent decide?” He huffs and I pinch his shoulder. “Jack! I just… don’t want to make things worse for you, okay? I want you to be comfortable, and it seems like you’re just doing this for me!”

He gets me by the shoulders and his voice is as warm and firm as his hands. “Honey, I’ve given this a lot of thought, for months now. I figured you wouldn’t want to stop with just a trim - that’s not who you are!” He smiles, “I’m 100 percent with this.”

I relax under his hands and he starts rubbing my arms.

“And y’know, it’s nice that you’ve shown such interest in haircutting. It makes me proud and I love teaching you and having you at work with me. We have fun! This is going to be fun.”

I smile at that, bend down and kiss him a few times across his jawline. “I just made a discovery,” I announce, settling back into his chest.

“Hm… what’s that?”

“If I ever need to talk about anything serious or ask you for something, I’ll just give you an orgasm first.”

He laughs. “And you’re just now making that discovery?”

* * *

Koujaku followed my instruction to pull his hair back for just a few days, and he amazed me with not only how comfortable he seemed but how he looked. One day he wore his bangs behind his ear and the next, his hair was in a ponytail. I honestly wish he had worn the ponytail on Sunday at home rather than Monday because I had to leave him at work with his fans while he looked so sexy. Now, I might be second-guessing cutting his hair. I understand what he means when I wore a ponytail. But then the day of his haircut came, and I was completely ready.

We set up the mini salon in our room just how we do when he cuts my hair. He got to use a lot of tools he can’t while on duty outside, and now I get to use them. Koujaku spends a lot of time setting up, and almost just as long explaining all the tools to use. I listen patiently, enjoying how enthusiastic he is. This is the adorable side to the ever-handsome Koujaku that I fell in love with, so I let him talk as much as he wants - I’m in no rush.

He finally sits down in the salon chair he keeps in the house and I wrap the clear, plastic cape around his neck like he always does for me. Koujaku tilts his head back leisurely when I start spritzing his hair with water but I can tell he’s nervous by his tense shoulders. It makes me nervous too.

“If I mess up, it’s okay because you’ll fix it, right?” I ask teasingly as I comb my fingers through his silky hair, but I kind of just want to take some of the pressure off.

“Yeah… it’ll be fine,” he says, but it sounds like he’s convincing himself rather than me. “You’re finally gonna do this, huh?”

“Mhm,” I hum.

After sectioning off his hair with the big clips he uses on me, I pick up the scissors from the tray and walk around to the front of the chair. He always starts with the front of the hair and matches the rest of it with the cut bangs, and I don’t know if that’s the _proper_ way, but that’s how he does it and so I’ll do the same. I comb my fingers through his damp bangs and notice he’s squeezed his eyes shut. I wasn’t even going to cut yet, though.

“Koujaku,” I call softly. He opens his eyes, but only one is visible. I bend down slightly to make direct eye contact. “You can say no.”

He smiles at me, but it’s weak. “Just… cut a little…”

I brush the ends of his bangs which have grown down past his chin. “Like… to your mouth?”

“Sure.”

I grin. “Once I make one snip, you can’t back out~!” I echo the words he said to me when I got my first haircut.

He rolls his eyes. “I know.”

He tilts his head back to give me easy access to his bangs, and I raise the scissors and angle them. With my fingers acting like a clip around his hair, I glide them down, leaving about an inch of hair showing. I look him in the eye one more time before I start to make small snips under my fingers just like he does. His eyes are closed again when I check, but in a relaxed way this time.

Snip, snip, snip.

Every time I snip off an inch, I brush my fingers through his bangs. I go slow, but I’ve already cut about four inches. Snipping hair makes such a satisfying noise and I can’t get over feeling every strand sever away under the cold metal of the scissor handles. My snips aren’t nearly as fast as Koujaku’s and I don’t seem to cut to a rhythm like he does, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job.

“How’s that?” I ask, stepping to the side so he can look in the mirror. I follow his gaze in the mirror, watching him angling his head and tilting his chin, and _model_ pops into my head again. His bangs right now just barely cover the bottom of the tattoo. I bet when it dries, you might be able to see it.

He finally takes a deep breath and smiles up at me. “Wow.”

I frown. “So~?”

He’s back to looking in the mirror. “You could put me out of business, if you wanted.”

I giggle then raise my eyebrows. “Does that mean you want me to cut more, or..?”

“Yeah,” he says, turning to look at me again. “Go ahead and cut what you want.”

“You trust me now?” I ask, pouting a little. Was that a test to see how I would do?

“I’ve always trusted you,” he answers with complete conviction. But then his gaze wavers away from mine. “I just needed to see how it would look… I guess.”

I step back in front of him. “So you really want me to cut - ” I reach up and draw a short diagonal line just under his eyebrow, “ - about to here?”

He chuckles. “Will you stop checking? Yes!”

“Alright, alright,” I huff. “Just makin’ sure.”

I start cutting again with my fingers stopped just above the scar on his nose. I don’t want to get too close and then mess up, so I’ll chop off all of the hair past this point and then work my way up.

“Doin’ okay?” I ask after I finished snipping that off.

His eyes are close in that relaxed way again. “Mmhmm…”

“It’s gonna look weird, because the rest of your hair isn’t cut to match,” I warn as I return to my work.

“I won’t look until you’re done.”

I take a deep breath. The pressure is back. “Alright…”

“You’re fine, Aoba. You can do this. And it’s just hair. Imperfections don’t take that long to grow back out - trust me.” His encouraging words steady my hands. “I used to practice on my mother who wouldn’t dare tell me I made a mistake, even when I knew I had. Her hair grew pretty quickly, and so does mine.”

“Your hair is just like hers,” I comment quietly over the snipping. “It’s beautiful and silky… and always looks so clean and neat.”

“She always kept it that way,” Koujaku says, his deep voice sentimental. “She got me interested in hairdressing, you know?”

I smile. “I figured she did. She was always messing with either your hair or mine, so it just kinda seemed like she knew her way around hair.”

We go quiet and I keep working. I’m nervous cutting the hair by his eye, but he helpfully instructs me to just go slow. I then start cutting at an angle once a good portion of his bangs hang down in the general area that I want them. I start snipping away at other parts of his hair to make it frame his face in a good way just how I’ve watched him do to clients and felt him do to me. I flourish the scissors just like he does… and oh my god… it actually works. I start cutting and evening out the left side of his face too, and this is like creating art. Right before my eyes, his haircut is falling into place. There might be a few mistakes, but like Koujaku says, the mistakes grow out. I’ve actually experienced that too from flippantly cutting my own hair once.

I take my time framing his face before I stop. I comb out his bangs with my fingers and examine the edges. He tentatively opens his eyes and both of them focus on me.

“You have her eyes too,” I say sweetly, picking up our conversation from before. “And her smile,” I add when he smiles. I don’t remember a lot about Koujaku’s mom’s facial features, but I know her eyes were the same shade of red and her smile was very kind and beautiful. I don’t want to ask Koujaku if he has pictures of her because if they were in hiding from the yakuza, he might not.

His face then becomes stony. “Everything else is my father’s.” Well… I don’t know how to respond to that. “Sorry,” he adds, hitching the smile back on his face.

I comb my fingers through his bangs once again and sigh. “Okay. Hard part’s over.”

“Ah, you think,” he says and I can hear the mirth.

“Ha ha. You don’t scare me,” I say sarcastically.

When I walk to the back of the chair, in the mirror, I see his eyes are closed again. He really does want to wait until I’m done. I have to spray the back of his hair again because it dried in the time it took for me to cut his bangs.

“And you’re okay with it... here?” I ask, pressing the side of my hand to the nape of his neck - about where he cuts my hair.

“Yep!”

“Okay.”

I make a big snip. A long piece of black hair falls onto my bare foot and I gasp.

“What did you do?” Koujaku asks firmly.

“Nothing! A piece of your hair fell on my foot,” I defend while shaking off the hair. “Calm down and have some faith in me.”

“Start slow and don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“I got it, I got it!”

Koujaku heaves a deep breath and I roll my eyes. He’s so fucking dramatic, I swear.

Doing the back of his hair is much easier than the front; framing his face was so stressful, but cutting the rest of his hair is relaxing. I like readjusting the clips how and cutting the layers. Most of the layers are already there so I just trim them up. I’m done a lot quicker.

I step back to examine my work - making a few adjustments here and there. He can fix it if he thinks it’s bad, but I’m tired and covered in his hair so I’m done. I’m honestly relieved all this hard work paid off: going to work with him early, getting lectures at home, and even paying attention during my own monthly haircuts.

I look at him in the mirror before he opens his eyes and… holy shit. I cut his hair. I cut his hair _drastically_ . Oh my god, he might freak out and I don’t know what I’ll do if he does. His hair is _short_. Not just his bangs, but the back too. The back is as short as it was as a kid, but I don’t think his bangs have ever been this short. Fucking hell, he looks amazing. I can’t hardly stand it.

He looks _amazing_.

“Koujaku…” I breathe.

He opens his eyes at that and focuses on himself in the mirror.

I let out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “What do you think?”

He’s stunned beyond words, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I unhook the clear cape and brush the excess hair off his neck. Then my hands go to his hair and I comb it out and fluff it up. As of right now, I’m not disheartened by his stunned silence, but if he keeps it up, I might be.

“Koujaku?”

When I think about it, the style of his hair isn’t that much different, it’s just the length. His bangs are still angled and frame his face, they’re just above his eye, and I cut the length off the back but left the style of the layers he already had in his hair. I fuck up a lot of things in my life, but I did a really good job for my first haircut.

“Babe?” I press, now getting nervous.

He splutters. “I - hah… Aoba… H-how… how did you do this?” His fingertips graze along the fringe of his bangs to the hair around the nape of his neck. It’s like he’s awestruck.

“I didn’t really do much…” I mutter. “Were you expecting a disaster?”

“No, no, of course not!” he amends. “You’re my student, after all, but it was your first haircut.”

“I didn’t really do much!” I stress, crossing my arms. I feel like there’s an explosion of praise coming my way. “I just followed what you had there.”

He starts tilting his head, looking at his hair from all different angles, and his smile gets wider with every passing moment. I was expecting a bit of a meltdown from my dramatic boyfriend, but it might be the opposite. Then his fingers stop on the tattoos around his eyes and my concern is back.

“I can go buy some makeup right now,” I offer, trying to make a joke but still be a bit serious. That’s hard to do. I don’t know how he does it.

He stands up, maneuvers around the chair and kisses me. It’s a short, sweet kiss, but my spirits lift in that split-second. Then he’s turned back to the mirror.

“I can’t believe this,” he says quietly.

I laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speechless.”

“For once, I’m speechless,” he agrees, grinning at my reflection. “You did an amazing job, Aoba.”

“I think you’re stuck on the fact I gave a haircut, but it’s _your hair_ that I cut, remember?” I say tentatively. “What do you think?”

“It’s gonna take some getting used to,” he says, brushing his bangs forward, “but I can pull it off, yeah?”

I snort. “Definitely. That’s why I gave it to you.”

“You think I’m a model.”

“Shut up~! Just - ugh… _What do you think_?”

“I like it,” he says a bit too quickly for me to believe him, but I think he’ll be okay. I let it slide.

“Good.”

He turns to me. “So… what do _you_ think?”

“I’m the one who wanted to give it to you!”

“But, do you like it now that it’s on me?”

I look over his beautiful face. The new haircut shows off his features wonderfully. The hair now rests high enough to draw attention to his cheekbones, complement his face shape, display the length and curve of his slender nose, and of course, reveal both his eyes.

I reach up and take his face in my hands and pull him down. “I love it,” I say before kissing him. “I love you.” I wrap my arms around him in a hug and squeeze him tight. “I’m never letting you out of the house, by the way.”

He hums a laugh, holding me just as tight. “Lest you see me on the news,” he says and I frown at that. Oh, here we go. I brace myself for him to say something totally self-centered. He pulls back to look at me. “Followed by shots of the streets where my fans are just _strewn_!”

My mouth falls open and I push him away, embarrassed by my own words that he just fired back at me. “ _Shuuuut uuup_!” He laughs loudly and pulls me back in for a hug which I don’t return. That little fucker... “Jerk.”

“I love you too, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I do!” he protests and proceeds to kiss me.

When we finish kissing, he steps around me and grabs the broom I propped against the wall as we set up the home-salon.

I hold my hand out for the broom, “I’ll sweep.”

“It’s fine, I got it.”

I shake my outstretched arm, insistent. “Give it to me. I gotta finish the job, right?”

Koujaku smiles warmly at me and gives up the broom.

As I’m sweeping, a sudden thought occurs to me. “Where’s that box?”

Koujaku’s back in the mirror, and he frowns in thought at my reflection over his shoulder. “Box? ...Oh!” He looks embarrassed. “Don’t yell at me. It’s a memento!”

I chuckle. “I know that.” _Now_. “Where is it?”

Getting a knowing look as he catches on to my plan, Koujaku points to his side of the chest of drawers at the second drawer down. I find the small, wooden box next to his socks and open it to see a lock of my own hair wrapped in a bit of paper. I smile down at it fondly. When it happened, I hated that he picked up the lock of my hair from the floor and kept it in a box, but soon I started to realize that it was pretty special to him. Keeping the hair he chopped off stood for a few things: it commemorated the change in our relationship, but also how we had both moved on and moved on together.

Box in hand, I searched the floor for a nicely shaped lock of black hair. Once I found one, I placed it next to mine. I looked up at Koujaku hanging over my shoulder and showed him the inside of the box.

“Perfect,” he says.

It is perfect. Strands of our hair have already started to intwine in the box. Both are from the first haircuts we gave each other, but they meant so much more. Koujaku’s meant something drastically different than mine, of course, but they both had meaning nonetheless.

I fold the paper back over the locks of hair, close the box, and put it back in his drawer before looking at him.

He really is absolutely gorgeous.

He still looks a little nervous and it's the sweetest thing. His fingers are running over the edges of his trimmed bangs absentmindedly as he searches my gaze.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“You know I do, baby,” I remind him, stepping close. I smile up at him, completely in awe over how different he looks just because of his his being short. “You look amazing. You look mature… but… younger.” It was an odd mix, but it's true.

The corner of his mouth turns up in a smile. “But what do _you_ think?”

What I _personally_ think, he means - not just how it looks. My voice deepened and I felt a sudden boost of confidence. “You look so incredibly sexy.”

Koujaku blushed and I smile victoriously. It's always a pleasant turn of events when I fluster him.

“Wanna take a shower?” I ask, but my sultry attitude fades when I see he still looks nervous. With no bangs to hide the tattoo on his face - even just to have them there as a security, he must feel extremely exposed. Baring his other tattoos for me is probably too much right now. “Oh, Jack. We don't have to,” I assure, dropping the act completely.

“No, no, it’s tradition!” he assures with a grin on his face. “Besides, you said you had to finish the job; you should wash it out for me.”

* * *

We get in the shower together, and Koujaku’s usual confidence is back. Not the peacock display he has for his fans, but the spirit of my best friend. I’m really impressed with how far he’s come to being comfortable in his own skin. He hid everything for so long, and now that the curse of his tattoos is broken, he’s no longer bound to his shame. He practically falls asleep on me while I wash his hair, and I wouldn’t mind him falling asleep on me but we are in the shower. He loves when I touch his hair, and that along with me sharing his passion is most of the reason why he let me cut his hair, but I know that he craved to move on - to stop hiding.

Once we get out, I sit him down at the vanity in the dressing room and dry his hair for him. I honestly just want to see it dry again and I can’t wait until morning. As I’m combing his hair out, I melt at the sight of him. He looks so good with his haircut, but to make things even better, his eyes are sparkling and he appears to be sincerely pleased with his new look. I know that there will be days where he’s self-conscious about it. He has those days when he falls back into a dark place - days when he doesn’t want to go outside and days when he barely speaks to anyone. I’ll be there for him, though. I wasn't always there, but I am now because he let me in.

When I set the comb down on the vanity, Koujaku starts chuckling.

“I feel like I should pay you for all this service,” he says, grinning. He stands up and hugs me.

I raise my eyebrows. “Yeah? With what?”

“Kisses?” he suggests.

I pretend to think for a moment, sighing deeply and laying my head against his chest. “Hmm. Okay... sure.”

 

Just like when he cut my hair, today is a special day, and me cutting his hair isn’t the only special part. I think I’m finally becoming something that can heal his wounds a little.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't originally intend for this story to be so long, but I really wanted to write how the haircut came about, not just the actual haircut like I had planned. I also wanted to write about Koujaku and Aoba's complete understanding of each other and how Aoba is starting to heal Koujaku's wounds.
> 
> Just a little side-note to explain Koujaku's comment close to the beginning: blue hair to me is Midorijima's red hair. So Aoba's blue hair gets all the redhead stereotypes (but also the redhead infatuation from some people). Also, from Re:connect, I got that there's a small room before the bathroom in Koujaku's house, so I imagine there's this big vanity in there with a bunch of hair products!
> 
> Edit: Koujaku's haircut would look something like [this](https://67.media.tumblr.com/9b92fb884b3477411438e11b6c28875c/tumblr_o7o60zB9gI1usfdmdo1_500.jpg)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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